


endlessly

by extremelyquestionable (TechnicalTragedy)



Category: The Derp Crew (Youtube RPF)
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M, Past Character Death, Past Sexual Abuse, Physical Abuse, Time Travel, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 20:25:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4934101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TechnicalTragedy/pseuds/extremelyquestionable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anthony’s not exactly sure when he realized it, but the door was always open to him. He only has the one to himself, but there are a million, billion others he has the ability to walk through. Linearity doesn’t exist, but at the same time there are a million, billion lines all travelling parallel and perpendicular to each other. No one else knows, and he thinks he might be the sole person in the whole world, maybe even the universe, to know. What he doesn’t know is why he’s so special.</p>
            </blockquote>





	endlessly

**Author's Note:**

> i swear it's happier than the tags make it seem. also on [tumblr](http://extremelyquestionable.tumblr.com/post/127406099522/title-endlessly-pairing-royalchaos-rating-t) in case you missed it.

The first time Anthony wandered through the door, he was eighteen years old. That first time was also the last time, because he could never find his way back after that. The doors were too numerous and he was just one person. He’ll always be just one person, he thinks.

Anthony opens a door and steps through. The sun is bright and there are children playing on the street he’s stepped onto. A young boy with curly brown hair is staring at him with wide eyes. After a few moments of mutual staring, the boy sets his jaw determinedly and stands, toddling over to Anthony.

“Who are you?” he asks, his voice high and sweet, although his eyes are oddly discerning for being so young.

Anthony’s not sure what to say. He hasn’t really spoken to another person in, well, a while. He can’t really think linearly anymore, since he’s come to realize all the timelines run twisted and crooked instead of the nice straight paths he’d always imagined. “Anthony,” he finally settles on saying, since that’s the name he’s always gone by. He could tell this little boy exactly who he is - Anthony the lost time traveler trying to find his way home - but he isn’t sure the kid would understand.

“Hi, Anthony!” the boy says, green eyes crinkling at the corners from the force of his wide, gap-toothed smile. “My name is Steven. I’m five years old and I’m about to start Kindergarten. What grade are you in?”

It’s odd, to speak to someone so young. Someone who hasn’t yet been warped and corrupted by the world. It’s refreshing. “I already graduated from school,” Anthony says, because he had, before he’d gone through the door.

Steven then blinks at him, squinting but not smiling anymore. “You’re tall. Mommy says that people who are too tall are just showing off, but Liam is over six feet tall and Mommy never says he’s a show-off.”

Anthony doesn’t know who ‘Liam’ is, nor does he think he’ll ever find out. Maybe Anthony is a show-off, though, he’d been called one enough back in his own time. He crouches down, coming eye-to-eye with Steven. “Not so tall now, am I?” he asks, and Steven shakes his head.

“Will you play with me? The other kids say I’m weird so they never play with me,” Steven says, and he’s wearing the same expression Anthony’s little brother always did when the other kids wouldn’t play with him. Dejected and rejected and lonely, and Anthony hates when kids look like that.

So Anthony smiles wide and shrugs. “Of course I’ll play with you, Steven. What would you like to play?”

Steven’s face scrunches up like he’s thinking hard about the question. It resolves itself quickly into a grin. “Do you know how to play Cops and Robbers?” he asks, and when Anthony nods he grows serious. “You be the robber, and I’m the cop. You just robbed a bank, okay? I’m coming after you because I’m a cop.”

Anthony nods again, just as serious. “Okay.” He stands back up and quickly turns around and runs behind a tree. He peeks out dramatically and Steven growls at him.

“Come out with your hands up!” he shouts, and Anthony smiles wide, quickly schooling his face back into solemnity.

“You’ll never take me alive!” he yells back, coming out from behind the tree with his finger guns up and ready to fire.

Before Anthony can shoot, Steven says, “Pew, pew!” Anthony falls to his knees and yells out in pain.

“Darn you, police!” he howls, before flopping onto his side and fake dying.

He hears Steven whoop in victory, then the patter of his feet hitting the ground as he runs over to Anthony. “You can get up now,” he whispers, so Anthony sits back up, smiling at Steven.

“Do you want to be a cop when you grow up?” he asks, and Steven scowls.

“No,” he says, “but my Papa was a cop. He’s…gone, and Mommy says I shouldn’t be a cop because I might be gone, too.”

Anthony feels his heart ache for the kid. It must suck, having a parent die at such a young age. “That stinks, buddy. Do you remember him at all?”

Steven shakes his head. “Not really. He was tall, and Mommy says I look just like him. She gets sad about it sometimes, and Derek does too.” They’re quiet for a minute, but then Steven brightens up again like nothing ever happened. “Let’s play again! You can be the cop this time.”

They play again, then again, then again, until Steven’s mother calls him for dinner and the tyke runs off, waving goodbye to Anthony while chanting about 'pasketti’ which Anthony thinks it’s supposed to mean 'spaghetti.’

Anthony sighs, feeling bad about leaving, but he goes through the door anyways. It’s not good for him to linger and alter things. It’s the first time he’s ever wanted to.

The cool sensation that accompanies stepping through the door is always soothing, like sliding under cold blankets on a hot summer night. This hallway of doors is where he’s begun to feel at home, and this is the one place where he can stay for however long he wants.

Anthony stares at the door next to the one he’s just stepped out of, wonders where it leads. Maybe he’ll see Steven again. He wants that, wants to find the boy again and maybe be his friend. It’s kids like Steven who desperately need friends when they don’t have them. On that logic, Anthony turns to it and enters, back on the same street with the same kids playing, but older now.

Four boys are in a loose circle a ways down the road, and Anthony thinks he sees someone standing in the middle. The only boy whose face he can see is sneering, which isn’t a good sign. So, being the Good Samaritan that he is, Anthony goes to check it out.

Just as he walks up, one boy shoves whoever is in the middle, and there’s a yelp as they fall to the ground. “Freakazoid,” the shover taunts. “My mom says that you don’t have a dad, that he left you and your mom because you’re a freak.”

“Hey,” Anthony says, angered by this kid’s hatefulness, “lay off, brat.” The four boys surrounding the middle kid look up at him with wide eyes. “Scram, before I tell your mothers.” Sure enough, the kids look afraid and run off, leaving Anthony to grumble under his breath and turn to the kid on the ground.

It’s Steven, older and more scraped-up than he was when Anthony last saw him. His eyes are the same, with the exception of the tears welling up in them. He blinks hard when he sees Anthony, and recognition flickers on his face.

“Do I know you?” he asks, frowning.

Anthony smiles at him, reaches a hand out to help him up, which Steven hesitantly accepts. “We’ve met,” Anthony says, and Steven gnaws his lip while he tries to figure out who Anthony is.

“Don’t tell me, okay? I’m good with names, I think,” Steven says, and his face gets that same scrunched-up look as when he was five years old, before it transforms into the same smile, a little less gap-toothed now. “Anthony?” he says, questioning.

“The one and only,” Anthony confirms, surprised Steven even remembers.

Steven shakes his head. “Where did you come from? We met once, and I never saw you again.”

Anthony sighs. “Where I’m from is a complicated question,” he says, and Steven’s eyes widen, almost bugging out of his head.

“Are you an alien?” he asks, looking delighted. “You are, aren’t you? I’ve never met an alien before!”

“Uh,” Anthony says, and Steven grabs his hand, wide-eyed.

“Have you ever had ice cream? Do aliens have ice cream? Let’s go get ice cream-” Steven cuts himself off with a gasp, eyes growing impossibly bigger. “You’ve never had frozen yogurt, and frozen yogurt is the bestest invention in the history of, of, of ever!” he yells, tugging at Anthony and trying to pull him down the street.

Anthony just allows himself to be led and hopes he still has money somewhere in his pockets. He leaves with the taste of frozen yogurt and a promise to come back soon on his lips.

When he stumbles through the door again, after longer than he’s ever been away, Anthony feels an unnamable ache in his chest. He allows himself a quick, wrenching sob, then straightens and walks through the next door.

This time, Steven is the only boy on the street. It’s nighttime, and his curly hair is illuminated by the streetlight, although his body is curled in on itself like he can disappear if he tries hard enough. The ache is stronger in Anthony’s chest, but he goes to sit next to the boy.

“Five years,” Steven says, and when he finally looks up at Anthony his cheeks are stained with tears. “You took five years to come back.”

Anthony swallows. “Sorry,” he says, and he knows it isn’t enough.

“My mom died last year,” Steven tells him, and the bitterness is strong, but not overwhelmingly so.

This time, Anthony knows better than to say sorry. He looks at the cracked road, then his hands, then back to Steven’s young, accusing face. “My mom died, too. That’s how I ended up here.”

Steven sets his jaw in the same way he had when he was five, his eyes glistening with tears he’s fighting to stop from falling. “Where did you come from, Anthony? Why are you here? Maybe you’re not an alien, maybe you’re, you’re…” he doesn’t finish, just curls back in on himself.

Anthony looks away, biting his lip. “I came from,” he starts, and isn’t sure where he came from anymore. “I came from my home. I don’t know where that is, not anymore.” He thinks a better question might be when he came from, realizes he could always ask Steven what year it is.

Steven doesn’t say anything, just makes tiny, broken noises into his lap. Anthony knows what it’s like, still wants to break down and cry even though his mother is so unreachable he’ll probably never find her again. The doors were supposed to bring him closer to her again, but all he’s found is Steven.

Who knows how long they stay there, but when Steven finally sits up, it’s because he can’t find the energy to cry anymore. He looks to Anthony, eyes red-rimmed and lips trembling.

“Please tell me where you’re from,” he says, begs, and Anthony can’t deny him that.

“What year is it?” he asks wearily, “Where are we right now?”

Steven frowns at him uncertainly. “2006, and we’re in California.”

Anthony is surprised at how close he is to his original time. “I’m from 2010 and New York. I was eighteen, and I think I still am, but it’s been a while.”

“So, time travel?” Steven asks, and at Anthony’s nod, he huffs out a laugh. “Sure. Time travel. Alright, Anthony, whatever you say. It would explain the weird jumps between your visits, though.”

Anthony sighs, looking sidelong at Steven. “Are you going to tell me, or will I have to ask?”

Steven’s mouth twists unhappily, and he sighs back at Anthony. “Liam is my legal guardian now and he…well, he’s not the, the nicest guy.”

“Does he hit you?” Anthony asks, and Steven’s silence is as incriminating as if he’d just come out and said yes. “You know it isn’t your fault, right?”

“I know. Doesn’t stop me from feeling like it is, though,” Steven says. He’s far too young for this, Anthony thinks, and he’s not quite sure when he became an adult, either.

They’re quiet again, and Anthony’s never been too comfortable with silence, but it isn’t bad, not with Steven.

“You remind me of someone I knew a long time ago,” Anthony finally says. “His name was Steven, too, but he was a scrawny little thing, could never stay still and had the brightest, bluest eyes I’d ever seen. He was my first friend outside of my family, and he made up the best stories.”

Steven leans against Anthony and Anthony feels that, for the first time in a long time, he’s not lost anymore. The boy eventually falls asleep, curled against Anthony’s side, and the peace Anthony feels is foreign, but entirely welcome.

When Anthony has to leave, he does so with a heavy heart.

“I’ll come back. We can get frozen yogurt again, you remember when we did that? It’ll be nice, and-” Steven silences him by pulling him down to peck him on the cheek, blushing bright pink when he backs away.

“Maybe next time you show up, I’ll be older than thirteen, and I can give you more than a kiss on the cheek,” Steven says, and Anthony feels his face heat as he escapes back through the door.

Anthony puts his hands over his cheeks, shaking his head. The next door is faded, and when Anthony goes to open it his hand slides through. He frowns, tries again, but he still can’t even touch it. It’s never happened before, that he can’t go through a door. He pushes his worry aside and moves on to the next one, stepping through and back once again on Steven’s street.

“Useless son of a whore,” a tall man is slurring, pushing an older Steven around in the street. “You’re just like your fucking mother, no good for anything except fucking.”

Steven is staring at the man with wide, fearful eyes, and Anthony sets his jaw, marching forward. Without a word, he grabs the man’s shoulder, spinning him around before punching him as hard as possible in the face. The man goes down like a rock, out like a light. Anthony scowls as he shakes his hand out, glad his mother had let him learn to box.

“Anthony?” Steven says, soft and uncertain.

Anthony turns to him, looking over Steven’s features and cataloguing the changes. He’s leaner, taller, his freckles more pronounced and his eyes greener, somehow. “Hey, Steven,” Anthony says, and before he can say anything else he’s being wrapped up in a crushing hug.

“Thank fuck you showed up when you did,” Steven breathes into Anthony’s shoulder. “I have no idea what he was going to do, I’m so glad you were here to stop him.”

Anthony places his hand on the back of Steven’s head, plunging his fingers into the soft curls. “It’s okay. I’m here, see? I didn’t let anything happen to you.”

The tall man gets up slowly, scowling at Anthony and Steven. “You fucker,” he spits, and tries to hold himself taller, like that’ll intimidate Anthony. “If I ever see your fucking faces again, I’ll kill you,” he says, and then stumbles away.

Steven turns his face into Anthony’s neck, squeezing his eyes closed. They stand there in the street, the sun setting and the streetlights flickering into life above them. Anthony keeps holding Steven, not sure what to do, now that he might have gotten Steven kicked out of his own home.

Finally, Steven pulls away, blinking hard. “I guess that’s that, huh?” he says. “I’ve been kicked out.”

Anthony frowns. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think he’d-”

“It’s fine, Anthony,” Steven stops him. “I’d rather be anywhere but with that asshole.” He checks his phone, nodding. “It’s not that late. Wanna go get frozen yogurt?”

Anthony follows Steven to the same frozen yogurt place, and gets the same thing he’d had last time. He can almost still taste the last one on his lips, but it’s just as good the second time around.

“I’m going off to college, so that’s why he picked tonight to try and fuck me up,” Steven says, staring down into his empty cup. “I’ll just crash with my friend John for a week, we’re gonna be roomies anyway.”

Anthony sighs. “I never got to go to college, since I was eighteen when I wandered off into the ether.”

“It probably won’t be that great,” Steven says. “Derek, my brother, graduated a couple years ago and says he’s not having a great time at UCLA, so you don’t seem to be missing too much. Besides, you get to travel all of space and time, Anthony. What could be cooler than that?”

“Seeing my family again,” Anthony answers easily. “Time travel isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It’s really shitty, sometimes.”

Steven frowns. “Can’t you just, like, go find them? You can go wherever you want, right?”

“Not really,” Anthony says. “There are doors, okay? I don’t dictate where I go, the doors do, and the doors seem to have picked you. I have to see this through to completion, I guess.”

“Completion?” Steven asks. “What does that mean? I have to die before you can move on?”

Anthony shrugs. “Sometimes it’s death. Most of the time the person the doors focus on has a problem that I need to solve. You have a problem, and I’m here to fix it.”

“Liam was my only problem,” Steven says. “Does that mean that when you leave today, you won’t ever come back?”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Anthony says, staring at Steven. If Liam was Steven’s only problem, then that would mean that Anthony would have to move on. He doesn’t exactly want to move on yet, is the problem. He’s grown fond of Steven, of the boy who needed a friend.

Steven gnaws his lip, like he wants to say something. “Do you have to go?”

“I don’t know,” Anthony says honestly.

Anthony walks Steven to John’s house, which isn’t too far away, but doesn’t stick around for Steven’s explanation to John of why he’s showing up in the middle of the night.

“Anthony,” Steven says, and Anthony turns back to him. “If this is goodbye…” he trails off, then shakes his head, grabbing Anthony by the shoulders and pulling him in to kiss him. Anthony kisses back, trying to ignore the fear that he won’t be able to come back.

“I don’t want to leave,” Anthony says. “I don’t know if I can come back.”

Steven swallows, glancing away. “Don’t leave, then. Stay.”

Anthony knows he can’t do that, and Steven knows it, too. “I need to find my family,” he says.

“I love you,” Steven says, and those are the words that shatter Anthony.

Anthony back away, not able to look at Steven. “I know you do,” he says. “I know, but I… This is something I have to do.” He meets Steven’s eyes for a split second. “I’ll come back. I’ll try my whole life to come back, if I have to.”

Steven nods, then seems to get an idea. He digs in his pocket and pulls out the frozen yogurt receipt and the pen he’d accidentally stolen from the shop, scribbling something down and then handing it to Anthony. “My phone number,” he says. “If you make it back.” He smiles, hopeful.

Anthony smiles back, puts the receipt in his pocket. “What year is it?” he asks, because if he wants to come back he needs to know.

“It’s 2011,” Steven says. “September.”

Anthony nods, nods again, and then the door takes him away.

The hall is colder than it’s ever been. Anthony stares at the door that hadn’t been solid the last time he’d been through here, at how now, it looks real. He reaches for the handle, and it’s so cold it feels like it’s burning his skin. Anthony opens the door.

He’s in a kitchen. Snow is falling outside the window, fat flakes that stick to the glass pane and all the buildings beyond. Anthony recognizes the view, even in the night like it is, and his breath catches in his throat. Quietly, he creeps through the kitchen, into where he knows the living room is. A Christmas tree sits in the corner, glowing and warm and a beacon of hope for Anthony.

As if he senses Anthony, the boy in front of the tree turns, seeing him. The boy’s eyes go wide, and he jumps to his feet. “Anthony?”

Anthony smiles, disbelieving but so overwhelmingly happy. “I’m home,” he says, and the boy plows into him.

Later, once Adrian, Anthony’s little brother, has alerted everyone to his presence and they’ve had a tearful reunion where they tell him he’s been gone for a year, Anthony gets his hands on a phone. It’s fancy, has the date on it and everything, and he sees that it’s been only a few months since he last saw Steven.

Anthony pulls the receipt out, and with shaking fingers punches in the phone number. It feels like it take a million years, but finally he hears a familiar voice say, “Hello?”

With a smile he can’t contain, Anthony says, “Hello, Steven.”


End file.
